


endlessly hungry, chasing her nectar

by elmshore



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:56:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28583862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elmshore/pseuds/elmshore
Summary: But not enough, no. She will never have enough of Nat, shall spend the rest of their eternity endlessly hungry, chasing her nectar.
Relationships: Female Detective/Natalie "Nat" Sewell
Kudos: 20





	endlessly hungry, chasing her nectar

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fulfill a prompt on tumblr: "for one muse to deny the other orgasm" and well, what better way to break in a new pairing than with some smut! This is unedited as of now, might come back and edit it later.

Heat spills into her. Fills every little nook and crevice, sets each nerve alight, and Cordelia shivers, groans, writhes. Sweat coats her skin, a fine layer of salt and damp and she is burning. Whines, a plaintive sound, desperate, aching.

It is a plea in the form of a name, simple yet beautiful, her lips rolling around the syllable.

“ _Nat_.”

A laugh greets her. Smooth as satin over her flesh, rich as honey pouring down her throat. Hands trail along her sides, nails ghosting against blazing skin. Cordelia gasps, moans, a pitiful thing. Arches up and off the bed, slots herself into the curve of those silken palms. They glide over her ribs, fingers tapping a rhythm, a song she has no name for but knows in her heart. 

Pass over her hips and then up, across the top of her legs. Slide down, curl around her inner thighs, and _oh_. Oh, Cordelia can feel her own arousal there, coating the skin, slick, heavy. And those hands, so close to where she wants them, but oh so far, too far.

“Nat, _please_ ,” and she would beg a thousand lifetimes, offer herself up a hundred times over, if only to have those hands where she wants them, to have that mouth on her.

Lips follow the trail forged by her hands, soft, featherlight. Goosebumps pebble under each kiss, imprints that fade but leave marks all their own, and she wishes — oh, how she wishes — that she could see the other, could soak in the sight of her. But the blindfold at her eyes is resolute, a velvet barrier, and there will be no breaking past it.

Not while her wrists are bound, at least.

She is at Nat’s mercy, entirely, completely. The thought is exhilarating, sends a bolt of pleasure skittering down her spine. It pools at her center, a new wave of heat, and she is aflame, dazed, floating.

Her legs are spread, opening willingly, and Nat settles between them, her weight a comfort, a tease. That mouth passes over Cordelia’s stomach and lower still, but stops short and she cries out, groaning, earns herself another breathy laugh.

“Patience, dearheart.”

Cordelia huffs, arms twisting above her head. Weakly tests the bonds and finds them firm. “I’m afraid to say I’m all out, darling.”

There is a pause, a torturous moment of silence and stillness, and then a tongue, searing as a brand, drags down her thigh. Kisses follow, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin, and Cordelia throws her head back. Lets out a keening wail, spine curving, and tears prick at the corner of her eyes.

All the while, the toy inside her roars, buzzes, oscillates between pleasure and torment.

White creeps along the edge of her vision. Sweeps into her mind and she is so very close now, inching closer to that ridge. Just a little more, yes, all she needs is — 

The toy goes quiet, motionless, and she almost screams. It tangles in her throat, sticks to the tip of her tongue, and she would tear at her hair if only she could reach it. Bunches her fingers into the pillow beneath her head, instead, and sucks in a sharp breath. 

“ _Natalie_.”

Said woman moves over her, effortless, sleek as water. Peppers kisses up the length of her sternum, between the slopes of her breasts, and nestles in the hollow of her throat. Licks over her pulse; tastes the salt on her skin, and Nat hums, the sound reverberating through Cordelia, burrows into her bones. “Yes, my heart?”

And oh, _oh_ , Cordelia can feel the smug smile pressed into her flesh. 

“ _Please_ , I need — ” but she stops, throat going dry, and whines. Feels that warm mouth wind up along her jaw, a trail of wet kisses left in its wake. Stops at the corner of her lips and Nat’s breath is warm, skitters over her cheek.

“What do you need, love?”

Six languages she knows. Is fluent in their rhythms and cadence, but none of them come to her at this moment. Her words are a jumble of static and smoke, fall through her fingers, and Cordelia _snarls_ in frustration. Turns her head and oh, how she melts into those lips. The kiss is deep and thorough, devouring.

But not enough, no. She will never have enough of Nat, shall spend the rest of their eternity endlessly hungry, chasing her nectar.

Nat licks into her mouth, slicks a sweet tongue over her own, and Cordelia rises, tries to meet her fully. Wants to crawl inside of her, make a home there, plant seeds in the garden of her heart, and watch them flourish, create something beautiful together. Drowns in her, in the flavor that spills down her throat like wine — cinnamon and tea and _love_ , intoxicating — and gods, but she is going to go mad.

Inside of her, the toy springs back to life and she shudders, moans, the sound swallowed by Nat. It changes speed, draws her closer only to slow, teasing, tormenting her.

Yes, she is certainly going to go mad.

Cordelia breaks the kiss. Twists her head away, buries her face in the pillow, and bites down, legs quivering, heels digging into the mattress. Hears Nat chuckle, lilting, and then those kisses return. Begin a pilgrimage down her body, worshipping, devout. “I want to taste every inch of you,” Nat whispers, reverent, and her hands move, trace patterns along her soaking thighs.

Lips close around a breast, smooth tongue rolling over the nipple, and then teeth, lightly grazing the nub. Tugging at it, nipping, and Cordelia has lost count of the moans that have escaped her, of the cries and whimpers and wails. 

Only knows that whatever sound leaves her now is broken, rasping, and she tries to breathe, lungs burning, air elusive.

Below, those hands are anything but idle. Nimble fingers slide between her slick folds, draw the toy out — slow, tantalizingly slow, make her squirm — and she hears it click off, the buzzing fading, leaving only the sounds of their breathing, intermingled, and of her heart, drumming in her ears. That mouth leaves her breast, swirls a tongue around the nipple and the journey continues, ever down, ever on.

Two fingers slip into her center, curve, splay, and she is up, off the bed. Grasps at the pillow, at the headrest, nails scraping wood and her eyes flutter behind the blindfold, tears building. A familiar tension builds in her belly, hot tendrils spreading outward, weaving through her veins like a spiderweb. 

And it is fitting, she supposes — she is caught in the web woven by Nat, a star caught in her orbit.

“Let me hear you, _Jaan_ ,” Nat urges, mouth so close to her core, soft breath sending flutters of pleasure zigzagging through her. “Sing for me, dearheart, I want only to hear you.”

She swallows, licks her lips, tries to pry words from the scrambled fragments of her mind. “Nat, dearest, please, I — ” but none of them feel right, none of them convey what thrums in her heart. Another finger dips into her, fills her, and she gasps, a watery sound, bubbling out of her.

“Tell me, love, I desire only your voice.”

Her heart stutters, stalls, and finally, mercifully, the words bloom on her lips. “ _You_. I want _you_.”

Nat _moans_ , rich, heady, and it is perhaps the most beautiful sound Cordelia has ever heard. She wants nothing more than to bottle the sound, to keep it forever with her, to cherish it. But then a tongue joins the fingers, parts through her folds and rolls over her clit, lips closing around the nub, and her mind goes blank.

Hips lift, roll and rock and Nat fucks her thoroughly, hungrily. Cordelia feels the woman’s other hand drag upward, curl at her hip, and hold her still, denying her even simple movement. 

Cordelia is panting now. The air around her is too hot, blazing, filled with a shimmering kind of heat that leaves her dizzy, head swimming. She is blind, temporary darkness, and yet, even so, white edges back into her vision. “Yes, _fuck_ , right there,” is all she can manage, writhing in her bonds.

Feels Nat growl, shift, _moan_. And oh now an entirely new flood of warmth is seeping into her and she smiles, lips feeling swollen. “Are you touching yourself, darling?”

“It pales to the feel of your touch,” Nat murmurs, dotting kisses along her thighs, and Cordelia whines; tries to twist, to get that mouth back where she needs it. “You are exquisite, dearheart,” she continues, inching ever closer, taking her time, “never in all my years have I tasted anything so wonderful.”

“Untie me, and I’ll touch you all you wish.”

Her only response is a melodic laugh and those lips, inches from her core. “Be a good girl now, and perhaps I will.”

That tongue returns. Slips through her folds and Nat is a woman at a feast, devouring, consuming. Her fingers work in perfect sync and when a thumb swirls over her clit, Cordelia knows this is it, the end of her.

One more curve of those slender fingers is all it takes to break her. That tight sensation in her belly bursts; spills over, flames sweeping through her, and she does not bother to soften her cry, lets it tear out of her throat in all its wanton glory. Stars explode behind her eyes, glittering, dazzling, and she pays no heed to the hold, rises up and up, body taut.

Nat’s name falls from her lips, a litany, a prayer. And through the waves, Nat fucks her, helps her ride the crest and guides her down, holds her hand, fingers lacing together. 

It is only as she falls back to the bed, boneless and floating still, that Cordelia realizes she is crying, hot tears racing down her cheeks. Between her legs, Nat pulls out gently, and then that blindfold is gone, removed slowly, allowing her time to adjust to the soft glow of the room. Warm eyes greet her, those pupils blown wide and dark; black swallowing the brown, and her smile is tender, full of love, of adoration.

Her kiss is soft, passion dripping from her tongue, and Cordelia accepts it eagerly. Feels raw, nerves alight, and yet, she wants more. Tugs the other’s lip between her teeth and catches her gaze, smiles. “Untie me, love,” and that is all it takes, to have those deft hands working the bonds free.

Cordelia wastes no time, always so eager. Reaches for Nat and curls her hands at her shoulders, nudges her back, until their positions are reversed. On her back, lips parted and legs spread, Nat looks divine — tawny skin shining in the lamplight, hair a mess, chest heaving — and Cordelia takes a moment to indulge in the sight of her, of this woman who chose her above all others.

The thought nestles between the cracks of her ribs and blooms, flowers dotting amidst the bones, leaves her breathless.

A hand cups her cheek, fingers tracing the starbursts there, and she smiles. Tilts her head, lays a kiss to the palm, and then she is moving, bending low. Settles her hands at Nat’s thighs and oh, but she is wet, close now. 

“Cordelia,” Nat whimpers, and her name sounds almost holy passing through those lips, something beautiful, worthy.

The scent of her is overwhelming, enticing. But the taste is even better, nectar spilling over Cordelia’s tongue. Above, she hears Nat gasp, moan, and she allows herself a moment of pride, wants nothing more than to show this woman just how amazing she is, how priceless and wondrous. 

She dips two fingers into Nat, closes her lips over the clit, and those hips rock into her, desperate. A hand tangles in her hair, buries so deep she wonders if she might have to cut it loose, and tugs, guides, but she remains steadfast.

It is her turn now, to feast.

But it is hard to take her time when this is all she has been craving — this flavor dancing always on the tip of her tongue, a constant reminder, an ever-present wish — and she knows Nat is very nearly there by the way her legs press into her, try to pull her closer.

“Will you come for me, _fy annwyl un_?” Drags her tongue over the clit, rolls it between her teeth, and listens to the shaky gasp this earns her.

“Yes, please,” and there is something so incredibly satisfying, at reducing this woman to a trembling mess, addictive even.

She allows one more finger to join, slides it in with ease, sheathes them to the knuckle, and curves up; splays them wide and all it takes is two more thrusts before Nat comes undone.

Her keening cry fills the room, rings in Cordelia’s ears like bells, and she drinks it in. Keeps up her motions, never once faltering, and helps Nat ride the wave, just as she helped her before. Hears something _rip_ and spares a glance, finds a portion of silken sheets torn asunder, caught between brown fingers.

As Nat relaxes, breath heavy, shallow, Cordelia smiles and raises up. Lifts her hand and, once she is sure Nat is watching, takes each finger between her lips. Rolls her tongue over them, between them, savors the taste. Loves the way Nat inhales, lips swollen, wet.

Hands settle at her waist and she is pulled down, tucked against the other woman. Their limbs tangle, legs and arms a jumble, a comfortable mess, and their fingers interlace once more, hold on tight.

Lips press against her forehead, fluttering, and Cordelia giggles. Cranes up to rub their noses together, lips spread wide. “So, does this makeup for me interrupting your research session earlier?”

Nat seems to consider for a moment, but there is a twinkle in her gaze, playful, loving. “I suppose it might have set you on the correct path,” she murmurs, smiling. Litters kiss after kiss over Cordelia’s cheeks, across her eyelashes, and finally her lips. It is sweet, chaste, yet it kindles an entirely different fire deep in her chest.

“But,” Nat says, pulling back, a peck against Cordelia’s nose, “I might require a little more recompense, for the ruined book.”

“That was Felix, not me!”

“You were an accomplice, dearheart.”

She pouts but it wavers, shatters into another grin and it is so easy to nestle closer. To tuck herself into Nat’s embrace, face buried in the crook of her neck and breathe in her scent — cinnamon and spruce and petrichor; earthen, comforting. Yawns, sleep lapping at the edge of her mind, and hears her beloved hum, lips at her ear.

“Sleep, _habibti_ , I shall be here when you wake.”

And that gentle assurance is what carries her into that sweet nothing, darkness falling over her like a warm blanket. The last thing she is aware of is the sound of Nat singing, low and sweet, fingers carding through her hair. Her heart, keeping beat, a beautiful lullaby.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and/or comments are appreciated! I'm also on [tumblr!](https://elmshore.tumblr.com/)


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